Love Glows
by where.l.writes
Summary: A fluffy-ish fic, modern day au, eventual Jon x Sansa, includes laughs, engagements, parties, Lannisport University, and a kind Cersei Baratheon. First chapter is the darkest it'll ever go in this fic. Rated M out of caution and for crass language. Weekly updates. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is a modern day au that will eventually be Jon x Sansa, basically just more fluff and harmless teenage/young adult angst, no character death or anything like that. However, a few pointers to give you a better chance at following and enjoying the story:**

 **\- There is reference to and a scene at the beginning where unwanted advances are made towards Sansa, I'll try not to make it too explicit, but if that's a trigger, then here's the warning that there is non-consensual touching concerning Sansa and our mystery character (shouldn't be too mysterious) and it is mentioned throughout the story.**

 **\- There will be no action or detailed, intricate plots, just us waiting for Sansa and Jon to get together and watching every one's lives unfold, crash and get built up again. Promise some laughs and aww's.**

 **\- Unlike most modern day fics on here, I've used the British schooling system, which I'll explain for non-Brits now as best I can:**

 **\- From ages 3-11 we stay in Primary School and leave at the end of Year Six**

 **\- From 11-16 we attend Secondary/High School, and leave either soon before we turn 17 or just after we turn 16, and sit our GCSE exams in 8/10 subjects of our choosing where the highest grade is A* and then leave at the end of Year Eleven.**

 **\- Then from ages 16-18 we go to college (for more vocational courses like mechanics, hair and beauty, plumbing etc or to re-sit exams) or to sixth form, where all my characters go, for a more academic route, and study for our A-Levels (Advanced Levels) in subjects such as Accounting, Maths, Biology etc.**

 **\- Then after sixth form, off to University where you collect your degrees, which I assume is similar to other educational systems.**

 **\- In the UK we class our students a bit differently. So say someone is born in 1999, after August 31st, they'll be in the same year/grade as someone born in 2000 before August 31st, as our school year typically starts on September 1st.**

 **\- This is getting really long now, sorry, but I just want to get this all out of the way.**

 **\- Most of my characters are in Uni, and I'm still in High School, so obviously my depiction of University life will be quite inaccurate, wildly inaccurate even, and I will place school breaks where they probably don't happen, and focus more on social life rather than what is taught in classes. Sorry if this bothers anyone.**

 **\- And lastly, Jon's life as a medical student will be made much more relaxed in this fic than it actually is, as I need him to have more free time than medical students really get. Do not read this and think life at University and more specifically studying medicine is this easy.**

* * *

 **Friday 10th May 2013**

"Well done, Miss Stark," he crooned, his eyes twinkling unnervingly. "We can all learn a thing or two from our lovely Sansa Stark."

Sansa blushed at the praise, ducking her head to avoid her classmates envious glares. Political Science was a tough course filled with ambitious go-getters as it was, having the professor constantly and sometimes unfairly favour her above every one else made Sansa no friends in this particular class and once rumour got around, anywhere. It was all right though, it was her first year and Robb had assured her things would get better. And she _had_ made a few acquaintances in her psychology classes, which was her main degree anyways, political science was just something to keep her mind sharp. Still, Uni had proved to be very different to sixth form. Extremely different to high school. In both, Sansa had shone; she aced all her classes, was well-behaved and well-liked and always had a secure and loving friendship group. One that she made during the very first _weeks_ at each establishments. It was always Fridays, when she had no psychology lectures or seminars, that she missed Margaery most. At sixth-form in the Vale, the two had been inseparable from the very first moment they met, and stayed that way the full two years, celebrating both their seventeenth and eighteenth birthdays wildly together. They were meant to do the same for their twenty-first. The idea didn't seem too likely, what with Margaery now doing her Business Studies Degree all the way in Lannisport, while Sansa had cowardly decided to remain in the Vale. She could never afford to go to Lannisport anyways, she'd tell herself in moments of doubt, not without dipping really deeply into her inheritance that she didn't get for another two years. Unless she got a full scholarship. Which was also unlikely, as Tywin Lannister, current Head of the School and the most influential person on the Board of Governors— _the man who made Lannisport great again,_ Sansa echoed without even realising—hardly ever gave out partial scholarships, never mind a full one. So Sansa opted to stay comfortably in the Vale, thinking she'd have all familiar faces around her.

Ironically, most of her old friends had gone to Dorne or Highgarden for University, longing for some sun and tanned men and more miles between them and their overbearing, Westerosi parents.

"Class dismissed," his voice rang throughout the room and was met with several chairs scraping backwards.

Like all the other students, Sansa hurriedly made to leave, idly wondering whether she'd already bought salmon for dinner or if she'd planned to buy it now, on her way home. Then cursed herself for forgetting she had a shift at the local hiking goods store and should've chosen much more sensible shoes to work in rather than the red heels Margaery had bought for her that she'd worn to feel closer to her best friend.

"Stay behind, if you will please Miss Stark?" Her professor asked. "I'd like to go over some extra work with you."

"Of course," she replied, but groaned quietly, knowing that the mere thought of her being pushed ahead by the professor would ruin all chances of ever making friends.

He didn't look at her until the last person had been gone for fifteen minutes and Sansa was now very tired and irritable. Her phone had vibrated four times already and she was really eager to phone the person, who she knew was Margaery, back.

"Sir?" She said somewhat awkwardly. The title had taken a while for her to get used to using for this particular man.

He glided towards her with ease, standing over her by the desk. "Miss Stark. May I call you Sansa?"

She rolled her eyes. "You've known me for years now, I think we're on a first name basis."

He laughed and the sound prickled her skin. "You look lovely today, Sansa. Red certainly is your colour."

It certainly wasn't. Red suited her well enough, but she really flourished in either blue or black. Still, she accepted the compliment gracefully. "Thank you."

"Such smooth skin. Pity weather in the Vale never allows you more chance to show it off," slowly, he ran his fingers up her arm, fingering with the material of her red button up shirt.

Uncomfortably, she shifted away. They had known each other a while, yes, but this wasn't an appropriate way for him to behave, despite them being kind-of friends. "You said you had extra work for me, sir?"

"Please Sansa," he drawled. "Call me Petyr."

She remembered her mother telling her to call him Uncle Petyr, as that was the respectful way for a child to address their elder. "Petyr," she said. "Where's the extra work?"

He didn't answer, and when Sansa was about to move away fully, flee the classroom then call her mother, he lunged at her, pressing his lips to her neck. She protested, attempting to push him away, her heart beating rapidly. "There's no extra work, Sansa. You know that."

His tongue nipped at her skin, making it crawl. "Get off me, now," she tried to sound intimidating but it came out more pleading.

"For nearly a year you've been all alone here in the Vale. All your friends gone, your aunt and uncle away, your parents in the North," his voice scratched her skin, and she frantically tried calming herself down, chanting that Petry wouldn't hurt her, he was her uncle for Pete's sake, her mother's best friend. "We have a connection. All the students see it, it's why they don't like you."

Faintly, the realisation that he'd purposefully isolated her from the rest of the students, dawned. Her mind was racing far too quickly for her to also realise this meant he'd planned to seduce her. To rape her.

"Get off me now," she warned, her voice meek and empty.

He didn't listen, only planted dry kisses up the length of her throat. She didn't physically fight back. She forgot herself. Who she was. Her name, even, as Petyr reached her coated red lips and shoved his tongue between her teeth. Later, she would curse herself for not biting it. His hands roamed her form, and it scared her to think she was just allowing it to happen. His touch was not violent so she prayed he would stop at kisses and touches. His hands cupped her face and she sighed in relief when his lips left hers.

"You do want this, Sansa, don't you?"

She stared into his eyes, seeing her flushed, frightened face reflected in them. It sparked her back to life. Abruptly, she kneed him in the groin. He bent over quickly, hitting his head on her desk. She leaped away from him and ran. The halls were deserted, save for the odd teacher. Good. She fell to her knees by an old oak tree, hidden in the woods. The stories her father told her off Heart Trees when she was a child spun in her head. Anything to take her mind off him.

Hours later, still deep in the woods, her red shoes muddied and broken, she found she still couldn't shake the ordeal from her thoughts. The paralysing fear she'd felt when his arms wrapped around her waist, how strong he was, how hard it would've been for her to fight him off. She hated herself for being so weak. She'd just stood there as he progressively violated and disrespected both her and her parents. If he hadn't have stopped, she might've let it get further. She might've—No. Sansa refused to think on what might've happened. She focused on what had and how she would fix it. They'd only kissed. Well, he'd kissed her. She just had to pretend it hadn't happened. Go home, wash— _thoroughly_ —watch a film and forget about it. Forget that he'd obviously been planning to do things with her for months. Forget that she'd been around this man her entire life. Forget all of it. And _wash_.

That night, she scrubbed her skin raw.

~xx~

The next week, nothing had changed. She still had no close friends, wore drab brown clothes, and was picked on by Petyr. He never touched her again. Probably guessing that it would end his career if he were to. But he still favoured her in class, sang her praises obnoxiously loud and let his eyes linger far too long. Sansa saw no escape. She couldn't go home, to all the questions, to her parents who'd only let her come so far for school because Lysa and Jon lived in the area. She'd be back in Winterfell, attending Uni somewhere in the Neck, feeling twelve years old. She couldn't go to Margaery as the girl wasn't here anymore. Even her Uncle Jon whom she had grown to trust was away for some sort of couple's counselling with her aunt. So for three weeks, Sansa went through life barely even there, feeling like she couldn't confide in anyone as it wasn't so serious. It wasn't as if he'd raped her or anything. They'd both been fully clothed. Yet she couldn't stay, as seeing him every day made her stomach clench tightly. Sitting in his classes made her anxious and sweaty and at her flat she had no distractions, only an empty room where she contemplated her life so much so that it became nothing.

When Margaery showed up at her last class on Friday, demanding to know why Sansa had seemingly dropped from the face of the Earth, she couldn't help but break down in tears. Petyr, seeing the commotion, rushed out to help. His finger made the lightest touch on Sansa's back. She recoiled from it and sobbed harder and Margaery guessed exactly what had happened.

~xx~

"He raped you," Margaery stated lowly.

"No he didn't."

"What did he do that's made you like this, then?" She demanded. "You haven't spoken to anyone in _weeks_ , Sans, and Myranda's told me you've been missing assignments and getting B's on tests. _B's_."

"I want to leave," Sansa said. "I can't stay here anymore."

"Because of him? If he touched you, _he's_ in the wrong, Sansa! You can't blame yourself, he's old enough to be your bloody _dad_!"

"He never touched me," Sansa said. "He . . . Flirted with me."

Margaery was severely unconvinced. "Flirted?"

"He kissed me," she admitted bashfully. "And held me."

Not wanting to push her friend too far, Margaery pulled Sansa into a hug. "Was that all?"

"He—he," her lip quivered. "He told me we had a connection," she burbled, tears streaming down her face. "And he picked on me in class so the other kids hated me! And _he_ was the one who suggested a couple's retreat for my aunt!"

Once she started, she couldn't stop, and the words came tumbling out. Everything Petyr had secretly or directly done to her to ensure she was vulnerable enough to fall for him. Seething, Margaery listened to it all, blaming herself for jetting off and leaving Sansa all by herself to deal with the creep. By the end of the night, Sansa was a wet heap, cuddled into her friend's side. "You can't tell anyone, Marg."

"He can get fired," Margaery argued. "Maybe not prosecuted, but he can get fired and and shunned by every decent person he knows," she urged.

"I _said_ no," Sansa snapped. "Tell nobody. Not my parents, not Robb, not Loras, not even Jon fucking Snow," she raged. "I want to forget it."

"Fine," she sighed. "If you're really sure."

"I'm really sure. It's over now, I just want to leave."

That night, Sansa left the Vale for the Tyrell ancestral home in Highgarden, leaving only a letter for her Uncle Jon.

~xx~

Nearly two months had passed and Sansa was over the worst. Margaery had stayed with her for three days before returning back to her dorms in Lannisport. The three weeks alone in sunny Highgarden had depressed Sansa more than she could've ever imagined. People all around her were laughing and soaking up the sun while she moped in her atrociously large guest room and pondered over all the worst case scenarios of what could have happened with Petyr and her leaving the Vale. Her parents hadn't asked too many questions, only expressed concern and encouraged her to come home if she felt lonely. Bran offered her a bed in his shared flat with his friends Meera and Jojen, but she'd politely refused. Being alone, for some reason, was what she wanted. And in the long run, it helped immensely. She didn't feel the same as she had before Petyr or even the same as she had before starting University, but she felt much better, and could now laugh with people without trying, she smiled brightly and naturally, and wore any colour she felt like. Only red shoes would cause her to shiver and sometimes cry. She'd even become desensitised to his name, by saying it over and over and becoming friends with a boy who let her call him Petyr but was as opposite to the original man as possible. At least she'd learnt _something_ from her psychology classes. It got much better when Margaery finished for the year and returned to Sansa. They toured nearly the entire Reach and went to a music festival in Dorne where Sansa socialised and felt like herself again.

"I like seeing you happy," Margaery said one day early in August. "I thought you'd always be sad."

Sansa shrugged. "Nothing even happened."

"Don't do that," her friend said sternly. "Don't underplay it. Sure, it could've been much much worse, but he still did things to you he shouldn't have. He emotionally manipulated you and purposefully made your life in the Vale horrible."

"Yeah but—"

"That would fuck with anyone's head. And he was supposed to be a family friend," Margaery's lips curled in disgust. "If only you'd let me tell Loras, he'd pummel the life—"

"Which is exactly," Sansa said lightly. "Why I don't want to tell Loras. Or anyone."

"I know. Let it die and all that."

"Precisely. I'm studying psychology, Marg, you should really listen to me on these things."

Margaery laughed and threw a cushion at her. "Seriously though, you're almost you again."

"Thanks." Sansa could feel it in herself too, feel herself becoming happy again. Not completely healed though, and that angered her beyond measure.

"I think you'd be happier with me at Lannisport."

"I can't go to Lannisport," Sansa sighed. "I've already told you this."

"Why do you do that? You're as smart as anyone in that place, it's more about hard work and dilligence than being a genius."

"I can't be that far away from home," she said.

"You're further away now. And it's not like you can go back there."

"I can go to King's Landing. Or Storm's End with Robb—"

"Or the Riverlands with Arya, I know," Margaery said. "But they don't know what's gone on. I do. I understand. Not fully, but it's better than nothing. And in Lannisport you'll be able to start fresh, no risk of him popping up or hearing anything about him. It's all about work at Lannisport, at the only guest professors we get are Tywin's kids or sometimes Stannis Baratheon," she enthused.

"I don't know," Sansa did know though. She'd happily go to Lannisport with Margaery but she'd already missed the deadline by pussyfooting around the situation and told her friend as much.

A smile cut Margaery's face in half. "But you haven't!" She screamed gleefully, brandishing a gold-tinted piece of paper. "I sent an application off for you weeks ago, but I didn't want to tell you until I knew you wanted to come."

"Wait. What?"

"You got in!" Margaery yelled, jumping to her feet. "A partial scholarship!"

Sansa couldn't help herself. "I got a scholarship!" She screamed. "To _Lannisport_!"

"We're going to Lannisport together!"

That night, Sansa phoned her mother, and they chatted for hours, like old times.

* * *

 **It gets happier and Jon comes in the next chapter, I didn't want to focus too much on the Petyr situation as it's sad and hard to write, but I didn't want to just gloss over it. Now Sansa's had some healing time, she's ready for school, even if there are a few lingering issues.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two. Have fun.**

* * *

 **Friday 10th September 2013**

The drive to back to Winterfell was long, at best, and absolutely dreadful at worst. Her months jaunting around with Margaery had made Sansa more than a little partial to flying in business class, being stuck back in a car, seat warmers or not, for more than three hours was a rude shock back into reality. And the fact that she had to drive since Margaery had conveniently forgotten where she lived made it more than worse. Though she didn't complain and hadn't suggested a swap.

"Who are you texting?" Sansa questioned, bewildered. Margaery was more often than not tapping away at her iPhone. "And is that the 5s? That literally came out yesterday."

Margaery grinned. "It's an early birthday gift from Grandmother."

"Your birthday was _three months_ ago."

"Well a late birthday gift then."

"Your grandmother threw you the biggest party I've ever seen," Sansa remembered the day vividly. "And on top of that, bought you a car."

"She knows I'll never use it," Margaery shrugged. "She only really bought it for me because it's the one thing I don't have."

Sansa shuck her head in wonder. It was true that Margaery never drove herself anywhere, preferring to administer her friends the job of chauffeuring her around or simply taking the train. Sansa couldn't do that. She'd always been a bit of a control freak, but of late, she felt the compulsion to be in control of everything. Even simple stuff like letting others drive wasn't something she felt comfortable doing, and that was when she could physically see the person at the wheel, but to get on a train, filled with people, while someone else did whatever it was they did, gave her small panic attacks. For some reason, though, flying on a plane relaxed her, when she'd always hated it.

She knew Petyr was the reason for her new issues. His blatant disregard for her feelings and the utter lack of control she'd had, had shook her. She didn't think about it or him much anymore, but she could still feel the effects of his actions in her bones, crawling around undetected. It wasn't that she'd healed from the ordeal—she'd more gotten used to having it there and reconstructed her life and happiness around it. Yeah, it wasn't the best way to go about things, but it worked and that's all Sansa wanted.

"You're such a spoilt bitch," Sansa teased.

"And you love me for it anyways."

"Seriously though, who is it?"

"Just a friend. You don't remember Melinda, do you? She came to the music festival with us."

Vaguely, Sansa remembered the skinny, brown girl. "Mmm."

"Yeah, she studies medicine back at 'port and was actually asking after you."

"Me?" Sansa eyed her friend warily. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," she exclaimed. "Just. Well, gotten your name around school beforehand so you don't go through that awkward new-girl thing, and it turns out you're somehow related to Jon Snow."

Was that all, Sansa thought. "My father raised him like a son," Sansa replied. "I've known him forever. That's not news, Marg, you already knew that."

"I _knew_ he was _friends_ with your brother Robb." Her brother Robb that she'd had a brief fling with when he'd come to visit Sansa. "I didn't know that you, like, knew him too. He's practically your older brother."

Sansa cringed. Hearing Margaery fan-girl about Jon was strange. "He's _not_ like my brother, that's weird."

"You didn't get on?" Her eyes wide as saucers.

"Of course we got on, we were best friends," she explained. It was true. Before Jon went to the Night's Watch Boarding School when he was eleven, him, Robb and Sansa had been reminiscent to the Three Musketeers, always together in some sort of trouble. Of course Sansa and Robb had been much closer what with him being her big brother and both actually residing at the house during high school, and Jon and Arya had had a bond that nobody could even begin to decipher or break. But that was beside the point. Jon and Sansa had been friends. Good friends.

"But he wasn't like a brother?"

"It was different," Sansa shrugged. "He and Arya were like that, but not me. Plus he left home for high school. Re-invent himself, mother said."

"Oh," Sansa could almost hear her friend's brain whirring with the information. "You and him never had a fling, right? I mean, I know you and Theon did—"

"Ugh Margaery, no, just no," she shuddered comically. "Theon was a mistake. A fifteen year old girl who thought she'd fall in love with her brother's best friend like the films."

Margaery laughed. "I know, I know, but you and Jon—"

" _No_. Definitely not. Like I said, once he turned eleven we only saw him at Christmas and Arya's birthdays and when Robb threw a party."

"Strange. He didn't come home for summer?"

"Nope. His school offered some summer boot camp and so he stayed."

There was a short silence. Sansa mused whether Margaery and Jon had had a fling too, even though it was geographically impossible. No, they can't have. Margaery wouldn't betray her like that. Sleeping with Robb was different, embarrassing but endearing peppered with the hopes that her best friend and her brother would get together, married with kids. But Margaery and Jon—that was revolting. That angered her. It would be like sleeping with Sansa's ex.

"So what? Is Jon so _like perfect_ that he's even known in the 'port?" Sansa joked, using the common nickname for her new University.

"Sansa, Jon goes to the 'port. He's in his fourth year of his medicine degree."

"What?"

That was certainly news. Sansa didn't like to think of herself as self-absorbed even though she knew she could be, but the fact that Jon was not only studying medicine but at one of the top school's in the world—she wouldn't have simply not known that because she was too busy brushing her hair or something. Jon had hidden it. He'd been like that for years; disappearing to a boarding school at eleven, to King's Landing at sixteen, and apparently Lannisport at eighteen. She pondered where he'd found the money to fund his ventures, as her dad hadn't even bought Robb a car when he left for Storm's End, until the boy worked at least twenty hours for it. Maybe Jon had a really good job.

"You didn't know? He's been there for _years_. He's like a prodigy: super smart, super athletic and humble and modest and shy, he's just—" she broke off to sigh wondrously. "Every girl's dream."

Sansa wanted to laugh but she knew her friend's words were true; Arya had told the family that much when she came back from high school each weekend—she'd also attended the Night's Watch, coincidentally, a decision that had taken much persuasion on Arya's part—with tales that dripped with her disdain of female teachers and the odd female student along with the entire gay population mooning after Jon. "Wow. Jon's gonna be a doctor. We always thought he'd do something more physical."

"I guess people change. I still can't believe you were best friends with Jon Snow."

"When were like ten."

"Still," she put her head back, closing her eyes for another nap. " _Jon Snow_."

The two girls forgot all about Melinda on the other side of Margaery's phone, waiting impatiently for the answer to which module they'd been told to study.

~xx~

Home smelt like candy-floss shampoo and muddied boots and heavy law reviews and sweet baking; like three kids going through puberty at the same time and Robb realising aftershave attracted the nicer girls and Bran experimenting with diluted acids and sounded like Arya screaming at Sansa, Arya screaming at Mother, Arya screaming at Robb and Arya laughing with Jon. Home felt like family, and Sansa was glad to be back once more.

She'd been welcomed by fourteen-year-old Rickon and his blonde girlfriend who'd squealed unattractively and hugged Sansa as if they'd been best friends forever. Rickon kissed Sansa on the cheek the way she'd taught him too, led Margaery to the guest room and offered them both beverages. Once they all sat down sipping lemonade, Rickon and Sansa laughed at the joke they'd been carrying on ever since she left home. The one where he pretended to be proper and polite for half an hour as a tribute to all the similar games they played as young children. His new girlfriend was tactfully distracted by Margaery with tales of Highgarden and Dorne, giving the siblings time to catch up.

"How's Arya? Is she coming home this week?"

"Obviously."

Sansa raised a quizzical eyebrow. Arya visited home roughly twice a year, at Christmas and for Ned's birthday. So unlike Robb who made an effort to drive back once a month.

"Jon's coming," Rickon explained.

"Oh." It seemed Jon Snow was everywhere today. "How come? Is this some sort of family reunion?"

"No but Mum begged him to come, since he hasn't been back in around two years, and Robb's graduated too and he's bringing a girl home, so I guess we're celebrating."

"Oh tell me more," Sansa leaned forward eagerly.

"Some Frey girl, Mum says. Pretty and slight. Met her when he went to visit Arya last Christmas."

"And he's bringing her home already? Must be serious."

"Yeah. Dad reckons they're engaged, but Mum insists he'd have come home first."

Sansa stared at her youngest brother in wide-eyed shock. She'd been AWOL for a few months, yes, maybe a year since her time at Vale University hadn't seen her very social, but she couldn't have missed this much. Her brother could be engaged! Robb, her best friend, and she had only just found out. It felt like only yesterday she was scolding Robb playfully for calling one of the girl's at their school fat.

"I can't believe he's fully a lawyer, now," Sansa said. "It's weird to think him and Dad are doing the same thing."

"Yeah. But Dad's a prosecutor, they're boring and grumpy and trying to put people in jail. Robb's a lawyer, or at least he wants to be. He'll be driving around in a Jaguar wearing rolex suits—"

Sansa cut him off right there. "Rolex are a brand for watches, loser."

"Whatever," Rickon waved a hand. "You get the point."

"I do."

"So how've you been? Mum mentioned—well, it was all she spoke about, that you were going through stuff at Aunt Lysa's. Vale didn't work out?"

A breath hitched in Sansa's throat. Despite being a psychology student, she'd had to come up with a less than orthodox way to handle her own issues. Breathing deeply helped and then thinking of the new 'unsolvable' math's problem plaguing nearly every scholar in Westeros managed to clear her mind of the bad feelings that erupted when she thought of the Vale. "Too cold," she said. "And all my friend's left."

"Well duh. Who would stay in the Vale?"

"Shut up. It's okay when you have the right company."

"Yeah. Perfect company you had, Aunt Lysa, Uncle Jon and Uncle—"

"Sansa!" Margaery's voice yelled. "Your parents are home!"

"Shit," Rickon swore. "I need to get Kara out of here."

Sansa only laughed at her brother.

~xx~

Roslin Frey was beautiful. Her hair was a light brown that swung gracefully at her hips, eyes a matching shade that beamed whenever Robb so much as looked at her, and a smile that shone just as bright as her diamond engagement ring. Margaery had ogled at it for quite a while, causing Sansa to wonder whether the girl was secretly a romantic at heart and her promiscuity only a façade or phase. Catelyn cried, and hugged Roslin, then cried some more, and hugged Robb. Bran was quiet and reflective, as always, and merely took pictures at Ned's suggestions. Arya and Rickon were loud and excited, same as Robb, while Sansa and Jon smiled in good nature but contributed little to the actual conversations. Sansa because she was tired and unsure how to act since she hadn't been with her entire family in more than a year, and Jon most likely because that's the way he was.

"You guys must be loaded," Margaery whispered. "That ring was heavier than her."

"Don't be mean," Sansa teased. "She's just petite, is all."

"Sure. How you holding up?"

"Good."

"Nobody mentioned anything about . . . ?"

"Rickon, in passing, but it didn't feel as bad as it would've two months ago."

"Great," she beamed. "If it gets too much—"

"I'll tell you and we can leave."

"Sure you don't want to let your Mum know that her best friend's a perv—"

"I'm sure."

"Kay. I'm gonna go find your brother, his friend's cute."

"Who, Rickon?"

"No, Brandon."

"You think the Reed kid is cute?"

"He looks so bookish and worldly."

"You're something else."

"Thought I was a spoiled bitch?"

"Fuck off," Sansa smirked.

~xx~

Dinner was lovely. Catelyn had always been a wonderful cook, and with Roslin's help the meal had simply flourished. Ned and Cat had let Robb and Roslin sit in their seats at the head of the table and tell the family how they met, started dating, fell in love. It had all been rather twee. Arya began looking bored thirty minutes into the meal, whereas Sansa had listened raptly, always loving a good romance. Margaery was happy to see that that part of her friend hadn't died.

"So technically," Arya said. "I'm the reason you guys are gonna get married."

The comment was typical of Arya and caused the table to laugh loudly, even Jon chuckled and patted her on the back, the way older brothers do their sisters. It was sad, really, that Sansa had effectively lost Robb acting as her older brother—he was a man now, a lawyer, soon-to-be husband, whereas Jon would still be Arya's Jon. "You'll probably be the reason they get divorced, too," Rickon teased, flicking a pea at her.

"Shut up," she retorted.

"Children," Cat intoned.

"I'm _eighteen_ ," she argued. Jon laughed again.

"You don't look old enough to have an eighteen year old, Mrs. Stark," Roslin said sweetly.

Sansa saw Arya mime vomiting to Jon, whom she was sat next to, and saw Jon grin conspiratorially in response. Somehow, she felt left out, sat between her father and Margaery, who was reading some faux business plan on her phone under the table, as part of an assignment. "You're a darling Roslin and call me Catelyn. But these kids make me feel sixty. Sometimes I can't believe Robb's the eldest, you'll find him in the thick of things acting like the child most of the time."

"Robb's older than Jon?" The girl frowned.

"Hard to believe, right?" Rickon said.

"Jon's always looked middle-aged," Bran said earnestly. "It's 'cause he's always frowning and never smiles."

"Like the Grinch," Rickon chimed in.

"Get lost," Arya quipped, playfully flinging a napkin at them. "Jon always smiles and looks way younger than Robb."

"You're only saying that because you and Jon look exactly alike," Rickon smirked.

"You see what I mean?" Catelyn said to Roslin.

"Whatever," Robb interjected. "We look like, I'm the oldest."

"By three months," Jon said.

"And sixteen days," Robb replied.

"Oh great," Sansa moaned to her father. "It's two thousand and one again."

"Aw, were they always like this?" Roslin asked.

"It was mostly Robb," Arya answered.

"Can't help that I'm the charismatic one."

"Keep dreaming, Robb," Jon said.

"So you've graduated too, then?" Roslin inquired.

"Oh no," Margaery cut in. "Jon's studying medicine, he has this year and another yet."

Sansa cursed her friend's brazen attitude and fearless tongue.

" _Medicine_?" Cat choked on her wine. "You're a _doctor_ , Jon?"

"Woah, mate, what the fuck? I thought you were in King's Landing working?"

"I was," Jon was blushing furiously. "And then I left."

"He goes to Lannisport now," Margaery added. "With me."

Arya eyed the Tyrell with narrow slits. It was thus, Sansa knew that Arya knew exactly where Jon was and what he was studying. Again, their obvious closeness rung painfully in her chest.

"You got into Lannisport? How did you afford it?" Rickon asked.

"Rickon it's rude to ask after a man's wallet."

"Sorry. But seriously Jon, how?"

"I got a full scholarship," he mumbled.

"A full one," Margaery gasped. "But that's unheard of."

"I . . . I have—my friend. My friend is friend's with Tywin's daughter and she pulled some strings."

This time, Ned guffawed. "Cersei Lannister got you a full scholarship?"

"Even with a full one," Cat said. "Lodging, food, textbooks, extra tuition. How did you afford that?"

"I have a trust fund," he explained.

"Yes, but you don't get the full amount for another year or so, only the ten per cent each year," Cat started mouthing numbers. "Goodness, Jon, if ten per cent is enough to live on for a full year, you're either living very modestly or—"

"Just get off his back, guys," Arya said.

"How? You'd need—"Cat began to ask.

"Mum, just drop it." Arya insisted. "And Jon's not the only one at Lannisport. Sansa got accepted too."

At that moment, Sansa could've throttled her sister.

As predicted, her parents were totally against having her so far away and demanded to know how she'd paid for tuition even with a partial scholarship and a bursary from Margaery's family. She'd given them evasive answers about savings rather than tell them that Margaery had illegally gotten her a few grand out of Sansa's inheritance. They were still dead set against the idea, insisting she come back to the North or go with Arya to Harrenhall Uni, since they'd already accepted she wouldn't go back to the Vale when Bran helpfully stepped in.

"Jon's at Lannisport anyways, Mum, he can look out for her."

"Yes," Sansa agreed hurriedly. "Jon'll watch me."

"And I'll be there, too, Mrs. Stark."

Jon looked thoroughly awkward with the suggestion that he was to watch over Sansa. Still, he made no direct complaint. "Of course, Aunt Cat, she won't come to harm with me there. And Lannisport's not like other schools, we're heavily academic."

Sansa was sure every one at the table saw the confused look Margaery gave Jon.

"They're right, Cat, Jon can watch her," Ned had never liked arguing.

"I'm still sceptical."

"You always are, Mum," Bran said. "But leave Sansa, it's Arya's turn now. She's yet to tell us how she's been since last December."

"Cheers, Bran," Arya said wryly.

Later on, Sansa accidentally walked in on Jon half naked and blushed faintly while he acted as if nothing untoward had happened, she realised that technically nothing had when Arya walked in unfazed at Jon's lack of a shirt, asking him to open a jar for her. Later on, Sansa failed to fall asleep and fruitlessly tried to block out the sounds of Robb and Roslin having sex. Having adjacent bedrooms had been fun when they were eight but was now extremely unwanted.

~xx~

For the next week, life almost felt normal, the way it had before Jon left except now they were all old and Robb had a fiancé. Catelyn and Roslin spent most of the week together, planning weddings, discussing baby names, the perfect area to live once Robb had settled into his new profession, which Cat determined was in the North, preferably as close to Winterfell as possible. Bran was Bran and spent most of his time holed up in his room on Skype to Meera and Jojen, whom Margaery stated he was 'fucking addicted to or in love with' and only came out when Jon announced, or well Arya announced that she and Jon were going to do something fun, and Rickon would join them too if he managed to pry his blonde girlfriend off him. Sansa alternated between girlish activities with Roslin and her mother, or going out with Margaery since they had a car. Well, Margaery had a car that Sansa drove 100% of the time. She and Arya did spend some time together, mostly discussing school and friends, but her sister seemed to have changed magnificently, creating an even larger distance between the two of them that Sansa found very hard to overcome. Robb and Ned always seemed to be busy or out. And Jon either hung out with Arya or was teased by Margaery.

It wasn't until her penultimate day at Winterfell that Sansa and Jon were given the chance to speak, alone. Arya and Bran had gone to the Watch, supposedly to visit a professor there, Margaery had finally driven her own car and gone with Roslin and Catelyn to the local shopping centre, while Rickon and his girlfriend 'studied' in the garden. Sansa was cutting Jon's hair for him at Cat's request when they finally spoke.

"Arya tells me the Vale didn't work out."

"Yeah. Too lonely and cold."

"What about your aunt?"

"She's away on a couple's retreat, they left Robin at some boarding school."

"Oh. Yeah that sounds awful. Still, I would've thought you'd make loads of friends."

"I dunno," she muttered. "It was harder there."

"The move will do you good," he said, surprising her. "It did wonders for me when I went to King's Landing."

"Really?" She'd finished his hair by now and had taken a seat next to him.

"Yeah. I worked for a bit, met loads of people and got some breathing room to find out what to do next."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he scratched the back of his neck. "I've always wanted to do medicine, but I never knew how to go about it since every one expected me to do law like Robb or something athletic."

"You never showed any signs that you were interested in the sciences," Sansa told him.

"Well, I haven't lived here full time since I was about twelve. I did all my science stuff at the Watch."

"So Arya knew," Sansa commented.

"No. I tell her everything but this, this I kept to myself. She's still trying to figure out when I started wanting to become a doctor," he chuckled.

"When did you?"

"Ah, it's a boring story."

"Tell me," she urged, placing her hands on his, looking into his eyes. "I just cut your hair, free of charge," she added. "It's the least you can do."

He grinned shortly. "I've wanted it since my parents died. Or well, my father and your aunt."

Sansa knew the tragic story of her Aunt Lyanna and her husband perishing in a car accident while her beloved step-son was left with no parents. But Jon had been at most, three, when it happened.

"I remember being eight, and me and Arya found this fox in the woods. It's pack was dead and gone and it was just left there, bleeding in the way. Arya wanted to run back for you or your mother, but I told her we'd never find it again or it'd die before we did. I wrapped it in my cloak to staunch the blood flow and managed to bring it to life."

Sansa remembered. "And then it got rabies and was put down anyways."

He laughed. "Yeah but I still gave it a few more weeks with a loving family. I always wondered if maybe a better doctor had been there or more doctors, they could've somehow . . ."

"Saved your parents?" Sansa guessed.

"I know that Rhaegar died instantly, but your aunt—"

"Your mum, Jon, you don't have to call her that," she told him softly. "Everyone says she treated you like her own. Hell, she carried you in her womb for nine months. Even if it was Elia's eggs, she still held you first, loved you first. Mothered you first."

A lone tear slipped down the side of his face, that he didn't hurry to wipe. "My mum stayed alive for a few more hours. She even told Uncle Ned to take me in. Maybe if someone had known what to do or I dunno, done something," he broke off. "I just want to help people."

Sansa regarded him for a moment. "That's admirable."

They sat in a slightly tense quiet for a few moments, their hands wrapped up together. Sansa wondering how she'd forgotten about Jon as soon as he'd left, how much fun it would be getting to know him once they left for school, and how she knew this personal thing about him that Arya didn't.

"Thanks. Look, if I can manage, you'll get on like a house on fire," his smile was genuine and sweet. "And with Margaery by your side you'll be meeting new people left, right and centre. You won't have a moment to even think about being lonely."

She giggled girlishly. "Sounds fun enough. The weather's good, right?"

"Marvellous," he assured her. "Sunny but with the perfect amount of wind to keep it from being Dorne style."

Good. Sansa hadn't taken too well to the dry, still heat in Dorne, and had regretfully discovered that unlike Arya, she didn't tan, she burnt.

"I'm glad you'll be there," she said. "I feel like I've been away from my family for so long, seeing you every day will be a nice change."

"Don't worry, Sansa, I'll look out for you. Just like old time, eh?"

That night, Sansa dreamt of when she was roughly thirteen and had finally grown a chest and Robb had been distraught and Theon had been appreciative and Jon had come back for Christmas and treated her the same as always, not even bringing up the fact that she now had breasts.

~xx~

"I can't believe you're leaving already," Rickon moaned.

"Term starts on Monday," Ned reminded him lightly.

"So why can't they just leave on Sunday?" Rickon groaned.

"Sansa needs to get settled in," Catelyn said. "And we can't keep Margaery here with us for so long."

"Oh I wouldn't mind, Winterfell's a breath of fresh air from Highgarden and Casterly Rock."

"Still," Sansa said. "I have to go and move in properly, Rickon. You'll be fine."

The boy pouted in response, but still gave his sister a hug. "Will I have to wait another two years for every one to come back and visit?" He was still hugging Sansa but his eyes focused on Jon's silent form.

"Hey! I stayed the longest," he protested. "Arya and Bran left yesterday morning and I stayed."

"Only because Margaery's car's way cooler than the train wreck Arya and Bran left in," Rickon scoffed, causing Sansa and Margaery to giggle.

"Now Rickon, Meera's car may not have been—"

"A _car_ ," the teenager whispered.

"But it was functional and gets great mileage."

"So does Margaery's."

Catelyn threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine. Come here, Jon, give me a hug."


End file.
